Stealing the Alpha’s Heritage

Chapter 6

Three years later

POV Thorne

"Alpha, we've found something."

Jules stands in my office doorway, his usual confidence replaced with nervous energy that immediately sets my teeth on edge.

My best friend, the finest tracker our pack has ever produced, and he's fidgeting like a pup before its first hunt.

I look up from the stack of territory agreements sprawled across my desk, my jaw tight enough to crack teeth.

Three years. Three years of searching, and my trackers have found nothing but cold trails and dead ends that lead nowhere.

"This better not be another false lead," I growl, setting down my pen with deliberate control.

His fingers drum against the leather briefly before he catches himself.

"A nurse from Moonveil." Jules steps forward, placing a folder on the mahogany desk. "She got drunk at a bar three territories over. Started talking about twin boys born to a mysterious woman under Evander's protection."

"When?" The word tears from my throat as my eyes scan his report, drinking in every detail.

"Two and a half years ago." Jules shifts his weight from foot to foot, a tell he's never managed to suppress. "The woman matches Luna's description."

"And the twins?"

"Boys. The nurse said Evander acts like their father, but the whole pack whispers they look nothing like him."

I stand abruptly, my chair crashing backward against the wall with enough force to leave a dent. "Evander Caldris. That self-righteous bastard."

"He never responded to any of our queries," Jules adds carefully. "Three years of diplomatic silence. Now we know why."

"Get me everything on Moonveil's defenses. Guard rotations, weak points, allies—"

"Thorne." Jules interrupts, something he rarely dares. "The Gala of Alphas is in six months. Every pack will be there, including Moonveil."

A slow smile spreads across my face. "And Evander can't skip it without losing face."

"Exactly. If she's really under his protection, if those boys are yours—"

The door opens without a knock, the hinges groaning under the sudden movement. Serena slinks in wearing a red dress that's too tight, too desperate, her smile painted on like war paint.

"Baby, you missed dinner again." She moves closer, her perfume—too heavy, too sweet—filling the room. "I made your favorite. That venison with the wine reduction you loved last month."

"I'm working, Serena."

"You're always working." Her fingers trail across my desk, deliberately knocking over a paperweight. "Keep searching for someone who doesn't want to be found."

My hand slams down on the papers before she can touch them. "Watch yourself."

"Why?" She leans against my desk, the dress riding up her thigh. "She left you, Thorne. And here you are, wasting resources on a runaway Luna while I'm right here."

"You're here because I allow it." I don't look at her, can't stand the sight of her calculating eyes. "Nothing more."

"The pack elders disagree." She straightens, and there's steel beneath her simpering tone. "They've been asking when you'll make it official. When you'll take a proper Luna instead of keeping your bed half-empty for a runaway who—"

"Get out." The words come low, dangerous.

"You need a Luna, Thorne. The pack needs heirs that actually exist, not phantom twins who might be nothing more than rumors—"

"SILENCE!" My roar shakes the windows in their frames. The glass spider-webs but doesn't shatter.

Serena stumbles backward, her carefully constructed confidence cracking. "I'm trying to help you move forward—"

"You're trying to take what isn't yours." I advance on her, and she backs against the wall. "You think warming my sheets while I search for my actual mate makes you Luna material?"

"She's not your mate anymore!" Serena's mask finally slips completely. "She rejected you! The bond is broken! I'm the one who's been here, managing your household, keeping the elders placated, making sure the pack doesn't revolt while you chase shadows!"

"And you think that earns you her crown?" I laugh, the sound sharp enough to cut.

Her face flushes red, then white. "You're insane if you think she'll come back to you. If those boys even exist, they don't know you. You're nothing to them but a stranger."

"GET OUT!" The command tears through the room like a physical force.

Serena flees, her heels clicking rapid staccato against hardwood. But she pauses at the door, her voice venomous. "When you find her—if you find her—she'll have moved on. Probably letting someone else warm her bed, raising your sons to call another man father."

The door slams behind her. Jules, who's remained silent through the entire exchange, clears his throat.

"Should I assemble a strike team?" Jules asks, his voice carefully neutral.

"No." I turn from the window, my expression calculating. "We play this smart. At the Gala, surrounded by witnesses, Evander can't run. Neither can she."

"And if she doesn't attend?"

"Then her protector's absence gives us the opening we need." I return to my desk, pulling out fresh paper. "Send word to our allies. I want eyes on every pack that attends the Gala. Every female, every child. I want detailed reports on any woman with children, any twins spotted, any female who seems nervous around other Alphas."

"Sir, if she's formally under another Alpha's protection, pack law states—"

My hand shoots out faster than thought, gripping Jules by the throat. His eyes widen as my fingers tighten just enough to make my point.

"Pack law means nothing if no one's alive to enforce it."

Jules gasps, nodding quickly, his hands hanging carefully at his sides—he knows better than to fight back when I'm like this. I release him and turn back to the window, watching the sun set over my territory.

"The twins would be walking by now." My voice drops, almost thoughtful as I picture them. "Talking. Looking like me, probably. My mother always said the Blackwood genes run strong."

"Your mother hasn't been well," Jules manages, rubbing his throat. "She keeps asking about Aria. The staff says she barely leaves her rooms anymore, barely eats—"

"Rowena made her choice when she helped that ungrateful bitch escape." My claws scrape against the window glass, leaving thin lines on the expensive surface. "She can rot in her rooms for all I care."

"The pack is asking questions." Jules straightens his collar, professional despite everything. "About their Luna, about the heir—they're growing restless. Three years without a Luna—"

"Tell them their Luna abandoned them." I watch my reflection in the darkening window—older now, harder, with lines carved by rage and sleepless nights. "Tell them she stole their future Alphas in the night like a common thief. Let them hate her as much as I do."

‘No,' I correct myself silently, my fist clenching at my side. ‘Not hate. Never hate. She's mine to hate, mine to love, mine to break. Mine to forgive, if I choose. Everything about her is mine to decide.'

"And if we find her at the Gala?" Jules asks, his hand already on the door handle, ready to carry out my orders.

I turn to face him fully, and my reflection in the window smiles—a terrifying expression that makes even my best friend take an involuntary step backward.

"Then I take back what's mine," I say simply, the words carrying the weight of a blood oath. "All of what's mine."